


Never a Coincidence

by gemini28



Category: Mobsterswitch - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini28/pseuds/gemini28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Snooping Scout's life is simultaneously ruined and vastly improved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never a Coincidence

Snooping Scout absolutely loathed going to see the Commissioner. He would be the first to admit that he is not exactly the model police officer, and that was usually reflected in his reluctance to interact with any of the higher-ups. They were often far too snide for his tastes, and usually avoided interacting with him unless he’d done something that they felt warranted them the go-ahead to be huge assholes. The Commissioner was occasionally better, but not by much- He still tended to speak to Scout like he was a rookie, instead of an undercover cop that’s worked on more than his fair share of cases.

Despite how much he absolutely did _not_ want to have to deal with the Commissioner today, he had been directly sent a summons, and it wasn’t really something he could just ignore. He didn’t have the excuse of not being in the station, after all. So he dragged himself from his desk, straightening up his uniform as he went.

As he walked through the station, Scout quickly realized something about the atmosphere. Normally there would be people discussing their cases, or their lives, or bickering on the phone- any number of things, really, that always made things seem a bit more alive. But right now… things were tense. Almost everyone had their heads bowed down over their desks, and it was nearly silent except for a few quiet conversations people were having into their phones.

It felt like there was something that everyone was waiting for, and Scout had never felt so out of the loop with information before.

He’s jittery and on edge by the time he reached the Commissioner’s office, but he hid it as best he could with a scowl. He knocks on the door before opening it and walking right in, since the Commissioner is probably already expecting him. And Scout hadn’t even lingered this time, so it wasn’t like the Commissioner would be able to try and complain that he was late and hadn’t thought he was coming.

The Commissioner was a twitchy, constantly nervous kind of guy. Scout had no way of knowing if it was just his natural disposition, or if it was the general stress from being pressured by both the city and the Scoundrels to do totally different things, but he still almost felt sorry for the guy sometimes. He doesn’t seem to notice Scout entering at first, still bowed over papers on his desk and mumbling, so Scout straightens up and clears his throat.

“Sir? You called me in?” Scout says, doing his best to sound as professional as possible for once. The Commissioner’s head snaps up, and he looks surprised for a moment before nodding and waving tiredly at a chair in front of his desk.

“Yes. Close the door and take a seat, Scout.” He says, and Scout does as he’s told, taking the seat with a bit more trepidation than usual. There’s a moment of quiet, tension-laden silence between them. But Scout’s never been very good at keeping quiet for too long, and this particular silence is choking.

“…Okay, what the hell is going on here? Everyone’s been acting weirder than normal today and I can’t figure it out. Sir.” He says, hastily tacking on that last word. There’s nothing he wants to happen less than to be scolded for his casual speech, especially right now. To his surprise, the Commissioner doesn’t even react to that. He just…sighs.

“Look…Scout. You’ve been an asset to the police department for several years, you really have. And I will be the first to say that it’s been appreciated. But…” He clears his throat and slides a paper across the desk towards Scout, who looks baffled and picks it up. It doesn’t take more than a brief glance at the top, where the words “Termination Notice” are written in bold print, to figure out what’s happening. “But you’re being let go.”

Scout just stared at the paper in his hand for a moment, trying to process what was being said. The Commissioner was still talking, but he wasn’t quite hearing any of it right. _Fired._ Not relocated, or anything else, just a piece of paper, a severance check, and a quick kick in the ass. Scout didn’t actually have any other prospects lined up, because he hadn’t expected to just get fired, not like this. As far as he knew, you had to have some sort of grand scandal or literally never do any work at all to be booted with this sheer lack of ceremony.

Halfway through the Commissioner talking about “personal responsibility”, Scout slams a hand down on the desk, looking furious.

“Give me one goddamn good answer why you’re canning me! I _know_ I am not _that_ bad of an officer.” He snarls his words, standing up so hard the chair nearly tips backwards. The Commissioner begins to look a bit uncomfortable, tugging at and fixing his tie.

“It’s just easier this way, Scout. Believe me.” He says, his eyes shifting away completely from looking at Scout. “It wasn’t exactly my idea to start with, but it is something that I agree with, alright? So just-”

“Wait, not your idea? Then who- Wait.” Scout crumples the paper in his hand further, his hands shaking at this point from how hard they’re balled into fists. If it wasn’t the Commissioner’s idea, then there was only one person who came to mind, who would be so insistent on ruining his life like this.

Scout stormed out of the Commissioner’s office, ignoring the nervous words behind him asking him to stop, where he thought he was going. He knew exactly where he was going.

He stormed down the hallways, until he stopped at a door and slammed it open, stepping inside and pointing an accusing finger at its occupant.

“ _You_.” He snarled, narrowing his eyes, not even attempting to keep the anger and hatred off his face, at this point.

“Me.” Snowman said, with an air of casualty that seemed to only infuriate Scout further. He didn’t even bother to close the door behind him as he stalked further into the room. Snowman stayed behind her desk, the picture of a diligently working Captain, but there was a small smirk on her face that just cemented Scout’s suspicions.

Once he reached her desk, he slapped down the pink slip, glowering at her with all the rage he could possibly muster. She gives it a passing glance, and raises one perfect eyebrow.

“Oh, I see your bad habits have finally caught up with you. What a _shame._ ” She says, her voice dripping with contempt. Scout snarls and points at her again.

“Don’t play the innocent act with me you fucking harpy! I know you had something to do with this!” He’s yelling now, but then it isn’t too much different from his normal voice level. Snowman looks completely untouched by these words.

“What a completely baseless accusation. You should be careful throwing things like that around without any evidence, especially considering you’re no longer a detective.” She says lightly, and turns her attention back to her papers. Scout stares for a moment, and then in the blink of an eye there’s a knife buried almost down to the hilt in the middle of Snowman’s desk. She looks up, their eyes meet, and Scout can’t help but to feel a certain kind of satisfaction from seeing the anger in her eyes for once.

“I know damn well you had something to do with this, and I ain’t gonna rest ‘till I find out what.” He says, and grabs up the paper and storming out of Snowman’s office before she can even get a word in. He leaves his knife behind, of course, because like hell he’s actually going to help her get anything out from under it.

\---

It’s a few weeks later, and Scout finds himself staring down into the bottom of a glass. Everything related to his newfound unemployment has more or less been taken care of, and he’s been sulking ever since he handed in his badge and uniform, coming to this bar a lot more than he had previously. No reason to keep up looking good when he had no one to impress anymore.

He was just about to finish his drink and order another one, when the TV, which had up until this point been just background noise, catches his attention. He turns around on the stool and feels his jaw goes slack as the reporter talks about how the old Commissioner had stepped down the day before, and introduces the brand new Commissioner of the police, some smug looking asshole he’d never seen before apparently named Scratch.

In fact…there were a lot of new faces surrounding him. People that Scout didn’t recognize, dressed in green that sure as shit hadn’t been the MCPD’s color before. He didn’t even realize how hard he was gripping his glass until he heard it start to complain under the pressure, and then he set it down and leaned forward so he could better hear.

It was the normal basic political bullshit that every Commissioner had ever given, but somehow this guy managed to make it seem even sleazier than others, all while not actually seeming that offensive. The tonal dissonance made Scout’s hair stand up on end, and he shifted gears and went back to studying the other officers.

There was one familiar face between a serious looking tightass and quite possibly the grouchiest looking man Scout’s ever seen. Snowman stood there, her expression seemingly pleasant, but Scout knew better. That was the expression she had when one of her awful plans had gone just right for her, but she couldn’t show just how smug she was.

“Hm. Something of a media circus, isn’t it?” Said a voice right next to Scout. He jumps, not having even realized that someone had sat next to him, and spins around. The stranger on the barstool next to him is dressed in a surprisingly white suit, and is smoking. Scout can’t believe he was so wrapped up in trying to kill with a look that he didn’t even notice the smoke, of all things.

“What? Uh, yeah I guess. Total fuckin’ bullshit, if y’ask me.” Scout says. The stranger just hums and takes a drag on his cigarette, still watching the television.

“You’re Scout, right? Don’t you work for the police?” He asks, and raises an eyebrow when Scout starts grumbling.

“Yeah, I did. Did bein’ the key word. Fuckers dropped me like a hot potato.” He says, picking up his drink again and downing it.

“Really? Hm, that’s a mistake on their part, isn’t it.” The stranger says, and stubs his cigarette out. Scout looks him over, wondering if they’ve met before and he just doesn’t remember or something. But he has a feeling like he would remember someone who actually had the guts to dress all in white in such a grimy city.

“Look, have we met before? You seem pretty interested in me, and usually that ain’t a good thing for me.” Scout says. “You haven’t even told me your name yet, and I think that’s kinda unfair since you seem to know about me.”

There’s a pause, before the stranger lights up another cigarette and nods. Scout can’t help but to wonder if he’s just doing that because he thinks it makes him look cool. Dammit, it actually kind of does.

“Deadeye Detective. I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been interested in you for a while now.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card, setting it on the bar between the two of them. “Here’s my card. If you have any trouble finding new work, just call me. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

And with that, Deadeye stands, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray (and goddammit he looks _so cool_ doing that) and walking out of the bar. Had he even been drinking beforehand? Or had he just come in to talk to Scout?

Scout picks up the business card and looks it over. The Meddlesome Company, huh? The card does, admittedly, look pretty professional, even if he hasn’t heard of the Company. He hums and waves the bartender back over, tucking the card into his pocket. He’ll look Deadeye up later, this might actually be kind of promising. He’s surprised to find that he isn’t as much against the idea of joining a group of private investigators as he thought he might be. It has to be better than the shit he went through in the police department.

The tone for his drinking that night turns decidedly more cheerful with an actually new prospect on the horizon now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Finally wrote out my own personal headcanons on how Scout's past prior to joining the Company went


End file.
